I Hate Yule
by sylc
Summary: Glorfindel visits Erestor, who hates Yule. The pair bicker.


"Erestor? Oh, so you _are_ here," Glorfindel observed, nudging Erestor's study door open a few more inches with his foot, hands behind his back. "Why were you not down in the dining halls and feasting with the rest of us earlier tonight?" he asked of the scholar sitting by the fire. Erestor, on hearing his name spoken, looked up from the book in his hand with a sour, distracted expression.

Erestor scowled. "I hate Yule." And with that, he promptly looked back down at his book. "Please leave."

"What a droll expression is on your face," Glorfindel observed. "And what a thing to say, especially _before_ Eärendil slips down your chimney with your present. If you are not careful, he will only give you a lump of dead orc. And that said, you had better get to bed for there is not too much more time before dawn and he will never come if you are still awake."

He frowned when Erestor shot him a withering look. "Eärendil has neither the time nor the inclination to slip down chimneys, especially not to my blazing fireplace. Most of Arda does not believe in Yule, much less celebrate it, but they certainly trust that Eärendil will stick to his path in the skies."

"Come, come, it is just a fun little story," Glorfindel said, "there is no need to be such a spoilsport."

"There is. I hate Yule, I wish it were over, and kindly leave. The both of you."

"Oh, Erestor," Glorfindel sighed, and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, "what am I to do with you? I almost think that you might be a worse gift in one's stocking than a lump of orc."

"If that is the case, then Eärendil, should he truly be inclined towards getting sooty and disorientating every star-gazer on Arda, will have one less chimney to scramble down. For he cannot duplicate me to give me to myself twice."

Glorfindel just stared at him. "I am amazed," he said after a pause, "that you can elaborate in such a manner on such balderdash."

"And I am amazed that you can come up with such balderdash in the first place," Erestor replied, getting up to go over to a small stack of wood beside the fire. "I am merely extending your own self-set logic." He tossed two stumps onto the fire. "Let us roast ourselves an Eärendil," he muttered as he returned to his seat.

"Ah," Glorfindel said sharply. "Now who just came up with the idea of roasting Eärendils, hm?"

"And who came up with the preposterous idea that Eärendil would want to climb down my chimney," Erestor retorted. "At least the concept that if one sits upon a fire, whether he be Eärendil or no, one will be burnt, is practical."

Glorfindel was silent for a bit. Then he said, "If we are talking about the practicality of the idea, then Eärendil would probably not fit to wriggle down your chimney anyway."

"Oh? Have you measured it?"

"No, but your room is like your personality and you are undoubtedly the most constipated person of my acquaintance."

There was another silence as Erestor considered this information. Finally, he ventured to answer Glorfindel's challenge. "I am now deliberating between only throwing you out and throwing you out as well as cutting back your pay for the next year," he said. "Now, had you argued your point about the narrowness of my chimney by making a reference to Elrond's own size and pointing out that wideness generally runs in the family, I might have dismissed the point."

"Liar! Had I said that, you would have told Elrond and I would still have had my pay docked," Glorfindel said, "and I am sure that you intend to dock my pay anyway. You are such a predictable tight-arse. Just like your chimney."

"Yule's Eve is not a time to be complaining about your pay," Erestor said.

"Oh, and here I was thinking that Yule meant nothing to you."

"It is a time for music and mirth and…"

"And presents," Glorfindel said, with a cold smile. "Dear Erestor, how much of a pay rise will you bestow on me in the soon-to-arrive new year?"

"Zero and if you do not hurry away and leave me alone, you might avoid a tax increase as well. I will give you oh - say..." Erestor fluttered his fingers demonstratively, "...a minute to leave?"

"Is my presence really so offensive to you?"

"It is unspeakably offensive," Erestor said. "You do not know the extent to which your presence, which exhudes putridness from every pore, causes me offence."

"Putrid," Glorfindel protested, leaning heavily against the door behind him, his hands still behind his back. "Erestor, you are so cruel!"

"And by extension, you are either mad or masochistic for you are still in my room and aggravating my senses," Erestor said, picking his book back up. "Now run along, run along, and go check the many stockings that I expect you have hung about your own fireplace, each embroidered with a variation on your own name."

Glorfindel just snickered. After a pause during which he just watched the scholar quietly reading his book, he pushed himself off of the door, went over to the scholar, and sat himself down on one of the arms of Erestor's chair.

"Oh, Erestor," he cooed.

Erestor did not look up from his book, but he made a distracted, irritated, 'Mmph' noise in the back of his throat.

Glorfindel withdrew the small bundle of wrapped presents that he had been hiding behind his back and dropped them unceremoniously on top of the open pages of the book. Erestor dropped all onto his lap and stared at the gaudily wrapped gifts with a mulish expression.

"Your chimney was too narrow and hot so Eärendil asked me, when he climbed down into the dining hall, to drop these presents on you," Glorfindel said cheerfully in a soft, conspiratoral voice. "Now be a good boy and do not open them until after dawn." And so saying, he raised his hand and poked Erestor's cheek with his index finger.

"What is in them? Bits of orc?" Erestor asked sourly, raising the topmost one and turning it over in his hands.

"Oh, I do not know. I only have a clue as to the contents of one of them," Glorfindel said cheerfully. "Unfortunately, it is not orc meat, as I would have wished had I wrapped you a present of my own."

"Fool," Erestor muttered.

"Now. I will leave you to the contemplation of your oh-so-exciting-and-much-read book and your presents," And so saying, Glorfindel rose from the chair and made to exit the room.

Erestor stopped him. "Glorfindel," he said.

"Mm, cruel Erestor? Erestor who makes me poorer annually?"

Erestor thumbed behind him towards a cabinet that sat opposite the fireplace. "Your present is on the top of the pile," he said mulishly.

Glorfindel looked at the cabinet and his brow rose when he saw, on the top of it, a small pile of wrapped presents. He went over to it and picked up the gift marked with his name. He turned back to Erestor and opened his mouth to thank him when Erestor suddenly said, "And no comments, please."

Smiling, Glorfindel went quietly to the door and left.


End file.
